


Sweet Ride

by TheTwistedWillow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bi-Curious Dean Winchester, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Crushes, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter References, M/M, Nimbus 2000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:32:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwistedWillow/pseuds/TheTwistedWillow
Summary: I blame Castielslostwings for this one. She threatened me on pain of death to write something about Dean referring his dick as a Nimbus 2000 (a powerful magickal broomstick that is ridden in Harry Potter) that leads to Cas and Dean whipping out their dicks to determine who has "the sweetest ride".Disclaimer: I don't know Harry Potter. You don't need to know Harry Potter to read this, except to know that this broomstick is supposedly something special; and I'm using it as a euphemism for dicks and anal sex.





	Sweet Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castielslostwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielslostwings/gifts).



> Promptober word: HARRY POTTER
> 
> Rating: Explicit. There's no penetrative sex (hey, go slow, this is Dean's first time with a guy) but I describe some things in enough detail that I feel it extends beyond the Mature rating.

The house is off-campus, the cul-de-sac canopied by a dozen maple trees with leaves that blaze magenta and citrine in the autumnal afternoon sun.

The five one-story homes are cozily nestled around a tight circular street. Dean pulls Baby up to the little white house that is smack dab in the middle.

He’s never been to Cas’ house before since everyone is busy schooling, working, and partying. Oh, and the fact that they only recently met through their mutual friend, Charlie, even though they’ve attended the same college together for two years.

The same Charlie who  _insisted_ that the three of them have a Harry Potter marathon during the holiday break from school because they’d all be here: Cas was already home, Dean couldn’t make it home, and her family didn’t have plans.

But then she bailed this morning with something to the effect of, “My dad ended up coming home from his business trip early so we’re doing Thanksgiving after all.”

And damn it, Dean’s never had a reason to come over until now and he wasn’t going to let Charlie’s canceling get in the way of his excuse to hang out with Cas.   
  
Because he has a very deep, very secret crush on the tall, dark, and handsome Castiel Novak.

Dating another guy is really not something Dean has entertained before now. And then he met a Cas and it was like all of his deeply repressed feelings were sucked up to the surface, and he’s slowly been examining each one since, trying to decide what he finds acceptable and where he draws the line.

His attraction to Cas is also different from random and fleeting ‘Huh, that dude is cute,’ thoughts that Dean has had over the years about other guys. Dean would’ve never crossed the line with his other friends but Cas makes him want dive in head-first and never come up for air again.

There’s only a couple of things stopping him. For one, Cas has only had one high-school girlfriend and nothing since. Nothing he’ll admit to anyway. So Dean is conflicted because he isn't sure Cas is interested in him, in men, or in anyone in general.

(And Dean can admit that he himself has tooted his own heteronormative horn, giving everyone the impression that he's not interested in seeing what it’s like to bat for the other team so he can't exactly blame Cas for not putting on the moves.)

And two, what if he’s wrong and he ruins everything that is slowly blossoming between them? He's not sure they could recover from that. They would drift apart, awkwardness driving a wedge between them. Dean would forever be  _that queer guy who seriously thought he could get with this_.

Ultimately, the idea is too terrifying to act on, even as he longs to be closer and more intimate with his friend. So he suffers silently, secretly praying that Cas will never meet anyone else because Dean isn’t sure his heart could take the jealousy.   
  
And if that isn't an eye-opener, then Dean really needs to get his eyes checked.   
  
Dean rings the doorbell and tries to not fidget too much. The bottles of beer that he's holding clink together when he inevitably shifts between his feet. He refrains from ringing the bell again and checks his black wristwatch.

He’s early because he didn’t account for the fact that he didn’t need to pick up Charlie anymore. H e waits another minute and presses the bell again, listening closely. He doesn’t hear anything inside the house. Figuring it’s busted, he raises a fist and bangs the side of it against the solid wood door.

Finally, he hears some shuffling inside, and puts on a smile. It isn’t hard to do since he’s really excited—nervous, but excited—even if it is just pizza, beer, and wizards.

The door cracks open and Cas peers one eye out. “Dean? You’re early.”

“Yeah, sorry. I decided to just head over now. Is that cool?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just, um, I was in the shower,” Cas says through the door crack, a trickle of water trailing down his temple. “If you don’t mind waiting just a few minutes?”

“Out here?”

“Oh no, of course not, sorry. You just caught me at an awkward moment but it’s alright.” The door swings wide abruptly and Cas is standing there in chiseled, water-soaked glory, a fluffy beige towel wrapped around his waist.

A flush blooms across Cas’ bare chest and up his neck. Dean follows it up to Cas’ lips and then furtively reminds himself to look Cas in the eyes, damn it.

_Eyes up, Winchester!_

“You can wait in the living room? I’ll be quick.”

Dean snaps his mouth shut, not even realizing it was hanging slack in shock, and he furiously nods.

“Yeah. I’ll just, uh, wait. No problem.” Dean steps in the foyer and shuts the door behind him, Cas already rushing off to get dressed. He calls out, “Take your time,” because he just saw his crush, the object of his fantasies, mostly naked and his brain apparently can't handle it.

Trying to keep his mind distracted from the vision of Cas--dripping wet, nipples hard little nubs in the cold air, wearing absolutely nothing on under that towel--Dean begins walking around the living room. He could’ve crowded Cas against the nearest wall and removed the cotton covering, exposing him, taking him in hand, Cas shivering beneath Dean’s body heat...

Dean shakes his head as if it'll dislodge the thoughts. He can  _not_ keep thinking about his friend like this. He cannot keep thinking about those thick, plush lips against his, or wondering what kinds of noises Cas would make if Dean were to suck Cas' earlobe into his mouth and bite it gently...

He’s rocking a serious boner by the time he’s done walking about the room under some stupid pretense of looking at the photos and decor. He remembers none of it. He sits on the loveseat and holds the six pack over his lap to hide his crotch.

The smell of cinnamon-spiked vanilla wafts in from the hallway where Cas' room must be and a minute later Cas follows dressed in sweatpants and a long-sleeved grey sleep shirt. Usually he’s dressed nicer, like any minute he’s gonna have to drop everything and meet-the-parents.

The warmth of Cas’ sweet-spiced scent and the ultra casual apparel isn’t helping Dean’s current arousal predicament. Though, Cas could probably wear any uniform, a tuxedo, a trash bag, a loincloth—anything or nothing at all—and Dean would lose his damn mind.

Cas approaches him, eyes crinkling because he’s smiling that certain, special smile that Dean likes to think is reserved solely for him. Dean clutches the beers more tightly against his lap.

“I can take those and put them in the fridge?”

“Nah,” Dean coughs. “I’m good. They’re still cold. Short drive.”

Cas frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Just fine, Cas.”

“If you say so. You’re acting a little strange,” Cas picks up his phone from an end table next to the loveseat and sits down next to Dean, accidentally knocking his knee. “I think I know what you need.”   
  
  
+++  
  
  
Cas could sense that Dean was uncomfortable when he first arrived, maybe due in part to this being the first time that they’ve had a chance to hang out together one-on-one. It seems they’re always in a group, yet drawn to each other, ending up sitting close.   
  
They’ve had study groups in the library, late nights throwing darts at the bar, seeing the newest movie, or hanging out in someone’s dorm--always in a group.   
  
It isn’t as though Cas hasn’t ever wanted to invite his friends to his place, Dean specifically if he’s honest. It’s just that he didn’t think Dean would be interested.

But then last week, Charlie had been going on about her  _house,_ except she wasn’t talking about actual houses. They were fantasy houses from her favorite book series. After some explanation and mentioning Harry Potter by name, Cas had absently said, “Oh, are those the books of the witch boy that they made into movies?” and Charlie had gasped in such horror that he may as well have threatened her beloved pet hedgehog with bodily harm.   
  
She said it was  _imperative_ that they remedy his complete and utter misinformation by watching the entire series as soon as humanly possible. And--God bless her--it was her idea that Cas host. And that, because Dean was a fan, he was coming along as her ally.      
  
When he got her voicemail this morning about going home for Thanksgiving after all, signing off with, “See ya later, bitches,” Cas completely expected Dean to come up with an excuse to cancel on him as well. As much as he loves Charlie, Cas can’t say he’s entirely disappointed that she had to back out because Dean texted a little while later and said he was still coming over.

Ironic that it was her idea to watch this and now she’s not here. He’ll humor her and watch it anyway. Knowing her, she has a lengthy quiz ready for him that she’ll expect him to pass.

So now Dean is here, and he’s clutching a pack of beer on his lap and acting so anxious that Cas figures they just need to break the ice. And the best way to do that, he's learned, is through Dean's stomach.   
  
“I know what you need,” he says knowingly. He places a call for pizza delivery. His knee knocks into Dean a few times distractedly.  Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, his place is very small. He’s never needed more furniture than this before.

“There. It’ll be here twenty.” He hangs up and tosses his phone onto the coffee table, picking up the television remote. “I’m going to go ahead and get the movie queued up on Netflix while we wait.”   
  
Dean relaxes a little and moves the pack of beer to the coffee table. The movement causes their knees bump.

“So, Cas,” Dean says overly casual-like, “you always invite handsome devils over to ‘Netflix and chill’, huh?”   
  
Glancing over, Cas finds Dean grimacing in a way that suggests that Dean regrets what he just said. Cas can’t find anything wrong with the question, though, so he chooses to quickly answer and save Dean whatever embarrassment he’s suffering.

“Of course not,” Cas says with a little huff. And it’s true. He never invites anyone over. Not for Netflix or ‘chilling’, which he’s pretty sure is some slang about relaxing. But Dean is different, special. “Just you.”   
  
Something shifts between them then. Dean’s grimace dissolves into something like surprise, his eyebrows rising slightly, his lips parting. His eyes search out Cas’ and Cas lets him look as long as he likes, hoping that Dean can see the answer that is sitting right there in plain sight.   
  
An answer so simple and yet so profound. 

 _Yes, I like you._  
  
Other than a girl he dated for a couple of weeks in high school, Cas has been very single. He had gone out with Hannah because it was the normal, natural thing for young boys to do. She was pretty, funny and smart. But no matter what they did, or how hard she tried, Cas never felt attracted to her intimately.  
  
At first he thought it was her, and that her personality didn't mesh with him, which didn't make sense since they got along exceptionally well. But then he found a picture of bad-boy-heartthrob-of-the-nineties, Leonardo DiCaprio, smoking a cigarette in an issue of Teen Beat Magazine and got one of the best boners of his teen life. It all made sense. Hannah wasn't the issue, he broke up with her, and they remained friends through to graduation.   
  
Cas hasn't been interested in dating anyone since. Until now. Until Dean Winchester strolled into the library for a study group that Charlie orchestrated, all windblown and leather jacket and the scent of  _man_ and  _motor oil_ and Cas was an instant goner.   
  
The problem is that while Dean is very friendly toward Cas, Dean hasn't otherwise given any indication that he's interested in Cas or men in general. But maybe Dean is waiting for a sign, some confirmation from Cas, to give him the courage to take that leap of faith.  
  
It seems like Dean is on the verge of discovery. But then he halts abruptly and leans back. Cas watches in silent frustration when Dean’s lips purse in discontent and his forehead creases. Dean closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them again he has a smile pasted on.   
  
“I’m gonna just, uh, take a leak.”   
  
“Of course. It’s the room with the toilet,” Cas jokes, trying to keep things light-hearted, even as he feels like he’s just made a gross error but he’s not sure how. 

While Dean is still in the restroom--which feels like avoidance to Cas--the pizza arrives in all of it’s greasy, steamy splendor.    
  
“Hey, I thought I smelled anchovies,” Dean teases, returning from the bathroom in his normal humor and looking as though he feels better.   
  
“I didn’t order anchovies but, if you’d like, I have a can of sardines in the pantry." He doesn't really have sardines. "I can doctor your half up for you,” Cas challenges.   
  
“Hard pass,” Dean flops back down on the couch, watching Cas like a hawk as he grabs them plates and paper towels.   
  
When Cas sits back down he consciously tries to stay on his own cushion in order to avoid touching Dean in the off-chance that that is what had been making Dean uncomfortable earlier. But he needn’t worry because Dean seems content. In fact Dean is pushing into  _his_ personal space, spreading his legs, pressing his knee into Cas and leaving it there.   
  
Cas relaxes and presses back. Dean catches his eyes and takes an obnoxiously huge bite of pizza around a grin.   
  
Things seem to have returned to normal, whatever hiccup Dean had been going through before having been dealt with when he had his moment alone. Cas wonders but doesn’t ask and they begin the movie, his right knee pressed into Dean’s left.

When they get to the part of the movie where the game of Quidditch is being explained, they’re done with pizza and each have two beers down. Apparently the wizards ride around on broomsticks and some broomsticks are better than others.  
  
“Nimbus 2000 is a strange name for a broomstick,” Cas says, perplexed. For a fantastically whimsical movie it sounds like something off of a used car lot."   
  
Dean snorts. “I dunno. It’s not so bad.” There’s a pause. “I mean, it’s what I call my dick.”   
  
“I’m sorry, I think I heard you wrong. Did you say you call your  _dick_ Nimbus 2000?”   
  
Dean has a lazy smile on his face--probably thanks to his beers--and is resting his head back against the couch, his eyes glued to the television.   
  
“Yup.”   
  
Cas sputters. “But, why?”   
  
“‘Cause,” his head lolls to the side and his eyes are unwavering, “it’s the sweetest ride around.”   
  
Cas’ responding expression is doubt filled, but not because he doubts that Dean is very happy about his genitals. It’s more that he’s out of his depths here and not entirely sure how to banter back without this leading something. Because bantering, and bantering only, is clearly what Dean is doing. 

Unless he’s baiting Cas…   
  
Actually, knowing Dean, he’s definitely baiting Cas.  
  
  
+++ 

“I don’t know about that, Winchester,” Cas replies carefully and causes Dean’s heart to skip a couple of beats. He knows he shouldn’t be goading Cas, trying to feel out where Cas stands with him. He was just telling himself earlier why it would be a bad idea.   
  
But ever since the private pep talk he gave himself in the bathroom after the whole ‘Netflix and chill’ comment--after Cas had gazed at him so earnestly that it felt like there was a glimmer of a possibility of  _more_ \--he’s been subtly testing the waters.

A touch here, a flirty comment there. Each time Cas has responded positively.   
  
But bringing up his  _dick_? That might’ve been a bit premature. He blames the beers.  
  
“You can’t claim that your dick is the sweetest ride around,” Cas is still talking, “if you’re not willing to give someone a test drive.”  
  
Dean’s pretty sure his jaw just hit the floor but he recovers swiftly. Obviously Cas isn’t talking about himself…  
  
...right?  
  
But just to be sure Dean huskily asks, “You know any volunteers that’d be interested?”  
  
Cas bites his lip as if he's actually thinking real hard about how to answer the question. Dean stares at the pinched pink flesh, pressed down by white teeth, until Cas releases it and soothes the gentle bite marks with the tip of his tongue.   
  
“I mean, if I’m the one you’re trying to convince, then I’m pretty sure that means you’d need to prove it to  _me_.”   
  
“Yeah,” Dean croaks. His cheeks flare with heat and his heart begins racing. And now his dick is swelling because it seems to have gotten the idea that something is happening here, though Dean doubts anything actually  _will_. This has to be Cas just fucking around. “But, I mean... you wouldn't."

Cas raises a brow and--for fuck’s sake--stares directly at Dean’s crotch. Well. Dean started this. He may as well go broke or go home. Dean lifts his hips to adjusts his jeans tightly against his erection, not bothering to cover up the evidence, waiting to see what Cas might say or do.   
  
“Does this mean you can’t prove your claim? I have to say I’m disappointed. Unless,” Cas says lowly, blue eyes flicking up to Dean’s lips, “you’re intimidated by me. That I can out-Nimbus you.”   
  
Dean watches in shock as Cas boldly cups himself over his sweats, which are unbelievably tented. He swallows, hard, and meets Cas’ eyes. “I don’t think out-Nimbus is a thing,” his voice becoming raspier by the second.   
  
“Oh, it’s a thing. And I’d win,” Cas challenges.   
  
“I think you underestimate how competitive I am, Cas.”   
  
Dean is still leaning back on the couch--his hands clutching his own thighs for lack of knowing where else to put them or what to do in a situation like this because he’s used to wooing and being wooed by women--when Cas moves. Close.   
  
They’re nearly nose to nose when Cas stops, his breath ghosting over Dean’s lips. “I’m counting on that.”

If Dean’s heart was racing before, it’s jack-hammering now, a quick-beat rhythm that washes out every other sound in the room.   
  
Before he can close the distance and finally get Cas’ lips on his, Cas leans back into his space.  
  
"You--you sure do seem cocky."  
  
"That is a very apt way of putting it," Cas replies with a slight tilt of his head and with a smug smile gracing his lips. He plucks at the elastic of his sweatpants, pulling them up and over a very impressive erection that makes Dean’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.   
  
“Damn, Cas,” he breathes, letting out a rush of breath.

He can’t stop staring as he fumbles with his belt. Cas’ cock curls up proudly from a thatch of dark curls, flushed wine-red with arousal. Dean follow the line of the thick, throbbing vein that runs up along the underside and stops below the smooth, bulbous head. He wants to run his thumb over every firm ridge and ripple, wrap his hand around it so that he can feel how soft the skin feels stretched thin over the hardened muscle.   
  
Dean drags his zipper down and hooks his thumbs in his waistband but stops. Now that push comes to shove, Dean wavers. He’s about to show another dude his dick and he’s not entirely sure if this is just locker room bullshit that guys tend to do, or if it’ll lead anywhere.

But he can't just leave this one-sided with Cas showing off his impressive pecker while Dean sissies out. The reward is too great to not take a risk. It's terrifying but exhilarating and he's so damn ready. So he takes the plunge, already in too deep. He pushes his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. 

He almost doesn’t want to see Cas’ face in case he laughs or grimaces and yet Dean can't look away. Dean's dick may be average in length but he more than makes up for it in girth.  
  
Cas zeroes in with great intensity and the only thing that gives away how badly he's holding himself back is how slow and hard he swallows. Oh and the fact that he reaches out like he wants to touch but stops himself just short.  
  
“So, as you can see, I win,” Dean says triumphantly.   
  
“Win?" Cas drags his eyes up to Dean's face. “You haven't won because your claim had nothing to do with appearance and everything to do with performance.” 

This feels like a game of chicken. Dick chicken. Any minute now Cas is going to yell, ‘ _Sike!_ ’ but Dean is willing to see how far this can go before Cas breaks. Because  _he_  is  _not_ gonna be the one to break here.   
  
“T-touch me then,” Dean stutters, hitching his hips up in encouragement.   
  
Cas’ hand reanimates, his long fingers wrap around the heated, throbbing shaft. Just the one touch and Dean's mind blanks on everything. Everything except the fact that _Cas_ is actually touching his dick, his palm surprisingly soft. And when he applies a little pressure, Cas' grip is sure.  
  
Dean groans more pitifully than he'd ever intend but he doesn't even care to pretend that he doesn't want this--badly--anymore. He throws his head back against the couch and his eyes roll closed.   
  
“Dean,” Cas’ whisper cracks through Dean’s lusty reverie and then his hand is gone, leaving Dean unsatisfied and feeling wholly rejected and foolish.   
  
This is it. The moment Cas laughs and Dean has to play this all off like it was a joke the whole time. The couch shifts as Cas gets up. Dean sighs and opens his eyes. He can’t even look at Cas as he lifts his hips up so that he can put his junk away.

But Cas isn't leaving or putting himself away. He's moved in front of Dean, his hands there to stop Dean from pulling the jeans up by determinedly pulling them down along with Dean's boxers.   
  
They're discarded, Cas pushing his way between Dean’s thighs and leaning over him. And then--then!--those lush lips press and push and sigh against Dean’s mouth. He mumbles something unintelligible back and even he doesn't know what he's saying but Cas grunts in return and they both just know.   
  
Dean opens his legs wider to make more room, lifting one up to the couch and twisting to lay on it sideways so he's using the full length of it to his advantage. Cas follows, lying down against him, and their cocks are trapped between their two burning bodies.   
  
And oh Cas' body. This isn't a soft, small, feminine figure. Cas is solid and heavy, pinning Dean to the spot. And Dean can't seem to keep his hands off of every inch of skin that he can reach. He touches Cas' neck, shoulders, back, waist and hips until his hands come to rest against his ass. He squeezes, hoping Cas gets the hint and moves, humps him, something.  
  
“Dean,” Cas says again, breathless and yet unwilling to leave Dean’s mouth alone for even a half-second for breath. “This still isn’t conclusive…”   
  
“Let's just worry about gear shafts now, riding later,” Dean mumbles, lifting his chin so Cas can leave a trail of kisses down his throat. And for the sake of being honest, even though the timing kinda sucks to admit this in the middle of a heated moment, he confesses, “Never done this with a guy before.”   
  
Cas hums against the hollow of Dean’s throat in acknowledgement. And then his lips are back on Dean's, nipping at the tender flesh. The couch dips on either side of Dean's shoulders when Cas braces his upper body, lifting his hips and rolling his cock into Dean.  
  
Their cocks rub together softly. It's a teasing sensation that demands _more_ and prompts Dean to dig his fingers into the soft meat of Cas' ass, encouraging Cas to do it again. He does and it's still not enough. They continue this slow dance of torturous, too-soft rubbing that feels good but keeps them plateaued with their pleasure. And until Dean can't take it anymore.  
  
They still need _more_.  
  
Dean thrusts up and pulls Cas down, seeking out more pressure. Their lips begin to match their hips' fervor, the kissing becoming more wet and uncoordinated as they begin to grind hard and dirty, desperate to achieve that sought-after friction.  
  
Breathless.  
  
Trembling thighs.  
  
Shaky gasps against their mouth.  
  
Whisper-begging one another's names...  
  
...so close...  
  
...climbing and climbing and climbing until they reach that summit and jump right off.   
  
Cas reaches there first, just ahead of Dean. His cock is trapped between them and Can can feel how hard it throbs with each spurt that is spent all over Dean's stomach. Cas is a mumbling mess and breathy gasps; noises that Dean was trying to fantasize about earlier even more divine than he could've imagined.    
  
As the other man sedately works his way down from his high-dive, with gentle rolls of his hips, Dean allows the motion to slicken his dick with the cum between their bodies. It soothes the slight rug-burn sensation from dry humping, quickening Dean to the summit of his own orgasm.  
  
He comes tumbling down, body shuddering so hard from the power behind it that he can do little more than clutch Cas to him and rock his hips through the rhythmic quaking until it passes.   
  
The passionate kissing from before slows into unhurried, worshipful adoration as their bodies seem to melt together, no longer tense with the building pressure.

But as much as Dean wishes they could stay like this forever, they can't. Cas eventually pulls himself away and helps Dean sit up. Immediately he looks down the mess they’ve made between them and then they share sheepish smiles. 

Cas is all wild-haired and glassy-eyed and kiss-swollen so Dean can only imagine how he looks. 

Their shirts never made it off and both are pretty much lost causes. There’s already dry, crusty cum drying in some spots so he pulls it off and uses it to clean up a little.   
  
Cas still has his sweatpants on, too, having only pulled them down as far as needed. He pulls them up now and goes to his room to change while Dean pulls his boxers and jeans back on in the quiet room.  
  
When Cas comes back in clean clothes, he holds out a clean shirt for Dean to borrow. But there's concern etched across his brow that makes Dean's stomach drop clear to his knees.   
  
“You really haven’t done that before?” Cas clears his throat. “I mean, with a man.”   
  
“No,” Dean says slowly. He pulls on Cas' Ramones shirt and gets a nose-full of Cas’ detergent. “Why?”   
  
“Exactly. Why? Why now at twenty-two? Why _me_?”   
  
“Are you serious right now?” Dean asks incredulously. “Have you  _seen_ you? Have you hung out with you?”   
  
He hasn’t ever seen Cas look so insecure before and it does something painful to his heart. He closes the space between them and cups Cas’ face.   
  
“I can admit that I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and I’m warning you now that I--I need you to be patient with me. But I wanna try... this.”   
  
“Because you’re curious,” Cas prods.   
  
“No, because it’s you. Because I've been thinking about it ever since I walked into that library. You've gotten under my skin and you've been driving me crazy for months.” Dean kisses him gently and then chuckles lightly. "When you answered the door earlier in just a towel? I couldn't even think straight."  
  
Cas arches a brow. "Pun intended?" he asks seriously.  
  
Dean laughs. "Yeah, pun intended." He kisses Cas again... because he can and because Cas lets him. Because he's pretty sure he got the hint that Cas is on board with this--them.   
  
When Dean pulls back Cas' pinched brow is smoothed out with relief, eyes shining brilliantly with what Dean can only describe as hope.   
  
"So," Dean says conversationally, "why don't we rewind this and grab a couple more beers? ‘Cause the whole reason I came here tonight was to watch a damn movie." Dean walks them backward toward the couch, grinning. "But then this sexy sonovabitch distracted me by whipping out his Nimbus 2000.”   
  
“Well, it  _is_ the sweetest ride,” Cas deadpans.   
  
Dean laughs and sits, pulling Cas down with him. “I look forward to finding that out. Someday.” One thing at a time.  
  
Cas smiles that special smile--the one Dean swears is just for him, all eye wrinkles and a secret--and nudges Dean with his knee.

**Author's Note:**

> Wooooooooooo!
> 
> I like to play around with characters who may think or do one thing... and then do the complete opposite. Dean had reservations about coming onto Cas in the beginning but then he got a little bold, then bolder, but was still willing to back down and play it cool if things fell through. I feel like that is typical of Dean in canon and I hope that the progression of events felt realistic.  
>  
> 
> ~TheTwistedWillow~


End file.
